Another Twist of Fate: Take 1
by history101
Summary: The first of two short stories, both look at alternate endings to the BBC legend - After one thousand, five hundred years, Merlin lives alone in the shadows of Avalon, where one day, something unexpected happens. Perhaps, sometimes it is arrogant to believe we can change Fate...and so we fail.
1. Am I Really THAT Old?

A.N. I got this idea after reading several one shots set after the last episode, and like any other fan, I decided to write my own post-series-Arthur-is-back-from-the-grave-thing.

Now, I am a huge fan of the show and the legend, trust me, I've even read the 1400's version by Sir Thomas Malroy, and I know that the idea is SO different from the legend. But who else can say they didn't want something like this to happen? Anyway, this is my version.

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**Another Twist of Fate**

**Chapter 1: Am I Really THAT Old?**

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It started as any other day in the year of our Lord AD 2012, but instead of being the aged old man on a lonely, leisurely walk, I was choosing to appear as my own grandson out for an early morning drive. The people here never seemed to question why the two of us never appeared in the same place, but chronic arthritis and poor eyesight did have a tendency to get to a person over time, even one as old as I.

I'd not aged as time had gone by, instead I'd used the ageing spell, at which I had long since become proficient, to alter my appearance. People did tend to offer more sympathy to a dodgery old man, but as I said, youth does have many advantages. One; it makes it easier to drive a car, two; no aching bones, and three; much better eyesight. Of course there were many more, but those were the main reasons which had affected me over the years.

At first...all those centuries ago, to find that I'd not aged...not at all...not since that day...was a cruel twist of fate...one of its many cruel twists. I'd had to watch as my trusted mentor Gaius, beautiful and kind Gwen, brave Leon, strong Perceval, and even my own beloved mother had succumbed to the passing of time, and it had broken my heart each and every time. You'd think it would get easier over time.

I'd seen and lived through war after war, famine after famine, plague after plague, hundreds of natural disasters and numerous 'religious conflicts', but nothing struck me as more cruel than watching the people I loved grow old and die, while I was powerless to stop it.

I was powerless in the face of time when it came to others, I couldn't stop death for them, but for me it seemed; death would never come. Not yesterday, not today, would it come tomorrow? Highly unlikely, it hadn't come for a thousand years, what now could make it come for me?

I drove around the narrow, winding roads until I came to the old hill overlooking the never changing tower of Avalon, still lying in the middle of the lake. Even after all these years, all the centuries of loneliness, it still brought tears to my eyes to remember. This place was a grave, and yet I'd found it hard to leave, every time I did I always returned, without fail, every time I came back.

Why? Why did I return to a place that only brought me pain?

...Because of the vain hope that someday, I wouldn't be alone...Yes...even old men can hope. Even old men who don't age still have dreams, and hopes, and tears to be shed.

I parked the car and stood in the sunlight as the wind picked up, tossing the long edges of my black coat in all directions.

It would have been unthinkable for me, a servant in my time to possess a mode of transport, or even more than one, maybe two sets of clothes. And here I was now; a moderately wealthy man with a car, a full wardrobe and a well stocked kitchen, with leisure time, and even spare money.

Living for over a thousand years did tend to aid in the accumulation of wealth, and I was far from the penniless farm boy I once was. I'd had over a hundred occupations; I'd been sorcerer, artist, physician and healer, scholar and philosopher, teacher, historian, scientist, inventor, farmer, philanthropist, servant in several decades to numerous royal families...the list went on. But one thing I was still...sorcerer...even when magic had begun to fade away, sorcerer I remained. It was as strong as it had been back then, it was hardly used as it had been, but still, it remained.

But, if the gods saw fit to keep it this way then who was I, a mere servant of their will, to complain? On the brighter side, it made the housework easier.

As the old man, and my 'grandson' in this town I was always kindly and outspoken, I gave lectures on history of times long past, I wrote books both of fiction and of reality, I performed 'tricks' on festive occasions. But at times, in any persona, what the Victorians had liked to call a 'pensive bout' came over me, and I was unreachable. Today it would be called depression...I called it remembrance, remembrance of what once was, and which would never be again.

My last true companion of those times, the young and much conflicted Aithusa, had passed many years ago to join Kilgharrah and Arthur in Avalon, leaving me alone. Over time I had formed many attachment to people, some servants and some royalty, but none the same as...they..had been. It was difficult...so difficult not to make new friends, I had many in this time still. Even after I vowed never to do so again, I always failed. People...human beings were so difficult for me to hate, to ignore and shun, I still hadn't learned how to ignore them.

I had been Merlin Ambrosius, Myrddin Emrys, Myrddin Wyllt, Merlin Caledonensis, Merlinus, and countless others. But in these days where those were forgiven names, I was simply William, in memory of my old, dear friend. The thought had occurred to use Arthur's name, but it was one which I was unworthy to bear; I had failed him all those years ago, I was not fit to even wear his name.

Yes, it was my greatest failure. Others hadn't seen it as such. After all, who could change fate? Who could change what had been written for centuries? I had tried...and I had failed, every time I had tried, I had failed. I had failed with Morgana the Witch. I had failed with Mordred the Murderer. And more importantly...I had failed with Arthur the Once and Future King.

And there he lies still, beyond the Lake of Avalon. Like me, it had not changed. Like me it hadn't seen the ravages of time. Like me...it seemed...it would be there forever, haunting me, taunting me...my greatest failure.

How long I stood atop the hill I wasn't sure, but when a bright flash of lightning drew my attention I looked up; the heavens were once again at war. Before the first rains fell I sat back in my car where I continued my contemplations for several minutes, silently listening as each and every drop fell around me until I was interrupted by moving shadows that skimmed along the grass...Shadows that were unnatural in the flashing light of the storm.

I felt it must have been my imagination, because I hadn't felt shadows move around me like this for several hundred years. Shadows were now just that; mere shadows, back then shadows were nightmares and monsters of death. People now had no idea how easy their lives were, how ignorant they were to the ways of the world. They were frightened little children in the dark with delusions of grandeur. But they were children I still cared about.

These shadows meant trouble; they put me on edge, and it took a lot to do that to me now.

I climbed outside once more and stood tall in the rain as the dark shadows continued to glide. "Who's there?" I demanded of the darkness, but no answer came. I used my 'sight' to see through the shadows and saw...I saw...a light...a golden light. A familiar gold light...it was bright...confident...it was beautiful.

"Show yourself," I told it. I had not seen anything like this for years, but I was far from rusty when it came to magic. As my father had once told me I was magic itself, magic would never truly die...perhaps that was why I was still here.

"...Eemmmrrryysssssss..." the wind seemed to whisper...Emrys...a foreign word of power and magic...a name I'd not heard in so long. Was I really THAT old?

"I am Emrys, who are you?" I asked it with confidence, but again I received no answer. Time was I could frighten an army in obeying my will without a word...was I really THAT old?

The shadows grew quickly now, without warning and the ground was struck with lightning. I quickly cast a simple shield spell around me as I waited until the fog cleared, and when it did, the greatest shock of this...no...of the last few centuries made me stare in complete and utter speechlessness. I, Merlin Emrys, was at a loss for words...and for an explanation...

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A.N. Whaaa...I know. Terribly predictable and very little happens, but let me know what you think anyway.

Oh, and of course, I don't own Merlin!


	2. It's a Long Story

**Another Twist of Fate**

**Chapter 2: It's a Long Story**

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I stared in shock. Shock I'd not felt in years. It was a similar, paralytic feeling to seeing the Norman Conquest and its shattering effects on my beloved United Kingdoms. Like witnessing the unexplainable, barbaric results of the Black Death after its first, unfortunate outbreak in 1348. Or similar to the chaotic devastation left in London in 1666 after the great fire, or of the lasting destruction in 1945 of the atomic bomb...

...King Arthur...my friend Arthur...the very man I'd sworn to protect and failed...the man I'd watched die in my arms as the life drained from his eyes, was standing right in front of me, in the twenty first century, wearing his old chain mail and arm guard, plain as day, on the hill overlooking the very lake I'd lain him to rest on over a thousand years ago.

It was insufficient to even use the word 'shock'. There was no word in any language I knew that was adequate for this inexplicable situation. I looked on high toward the heavens as the rain poured down my face, hoping it would provide an answer.

...But, alas...no answer was given...

Arthur continued to stare at me as I stood, conflicted and confused across from him. Without realising it, I was back once more in Albion, I was behind him as he stood proud over his kingdom with Gwen, his beloved wife, by his side, while the people cheered from below, and the gods smiled from on high. Why had things had to change, not for the first time I asked myself? Wouldn't it have been better for him to live? He had so much yet to give. Why must he die? Why must I fail him? Why must I fail her? Why must I return to Camelot alone...in failure and disgrace, without the King we all follow and love?

I blinked and slowly and the sight of the present returned to me, the past fading away like an old London smog, it flew once more out of my hands.

And then, without word or warning the man before me suddenly keeled over, falling inelegantly onto the grass, the rain bouncing off the metal of his armour...the armour with its every intricate detail exactly as I remembered.

Old habits took over and I ran across to search for injuries...I paled when I saw the blood stain...the blood on his chain mail...just where it had been when...

But he was still breathing. He felt real, his angular face showed not the paleness of death I'd last seen...and that I saw still, in my lingering nightmares. The blood was dry and when I carefully peeled back the torn chain mail around the old wound I saw...dried blood...and nothing more.

What magic had done this? What power could possibly do this?

I lifted the unconscious body of my friend and quickly lay him across the back seats of my car and closed the doors, shielding him from the rain which continued to fall and showed no signs of stopping. I walked alone for several minutes around the area, always keeping the vehicle in sight as I looked for traces of what had happened. But I had no idea what I was looking for.

Was this a spirit merely taking Arthur's form? Should I be looking for traces of spirits? Was it a clever illusion or a monster of the Old ways come back to haunt me? Should I be looking for traces of the Old Religion? If it was I would've sensed some trace of Old magic...but there was none. Nothing.

With a sigh I gave up...for the time being...and I returned to the car. As I sat pensive in the drivers' seat I eventually decided it would be best to go home and wait until I could be absolutely sure that this was indeed - somehow - my old, dear friend returned to me, and not a figment of my imagination, or an illusion of the gods to torment me.

I quickly navigated the roads to my home then carried Arthur into one of the spare bedrooms. I lifted him onto the bed which was covered in the colours of the deep reds and golds from my memories.

Since my financial situation was as good as it had ever been, I had decided to buy a proper house. I had lived in caves and farm houses before the years of central heating and indoor plumbing, so this was, of course, even more luxurious than even the great castle of Camelot had been. But if it was a choice between the two, there was no contest.

My home now, though, was a two-story, completely-modern personification of the twenty first century...what was inside it as décor was of course another matter entirely. I had furnished the house along side the luxuries of modern living with old tapestries and candles complete with dripping wax and thousands of old books, some were even from Camelot, a few I even remember using as a boy with Gaius in his chambers that I had located only after much effort.

My collection included the very first book of magic I'd ever seen, the beautiful book which had once belonged to Gaius himself. It sat in my bedroom on an old stand I'd acquired in the 1800's, I still stared at its pages almost every night and remembered his face as he gave it to me.

I also had swords and armour from centuries past, I had yellowed skulls across my desk and on my study shelves, and deeply coloured persian rugs from the Victorian era throughout the house. Along with antiquated instruments, including my favourite grand piano, there were portraits from several centuries past hung on the walls and stared as I walked by them. And, of course, the old staff I'd used that day...the day of my great failure, was my one possession I didn't display. I kept it hidden in my basement, under magical lock and key, away from the light of the world. And away from me.

On the very few occasions that people actually visited me they spoke often of my décor and how I could easly win awards for its splendour and beauty. But after growing up with nothing I didn't need trophies to proclaim that I now had more material possessions than I could shake the proverbial stick at. What would I do with them?

My whole house was a testament to the long history of the human race I had witnessed over the course of my life. In the unlikely event of the death or lengthy disappearance of both me and my 'grandfather' my collection was to be donated to the local and highly popular museum to which I frequently gave lectures, along with local schools and the university. I had no one who I could leave it to anyway, so I felt it would be...right...to leave it to a museum.

I stared down once more at the sleeping man who seemed to resemble my old friend in every way it was almost painful to look. The same. He was the same. This must be Arthur. Yes...yes, it is, it is him. It is indeed my dear friend.

Silently I removed his boots, arm guard and chain mail...of course he had no sword, Excalibur was not here with him, I'd tossed it back into the Lake for Freya to guard, right before I'd set Arthur into the boat.

I drew the deep red curtains closed to keep out what little light was still shining out there in the rain and left him to sleep after leaving out some clothes for him on the bed where, hopefully, he would see them. Then, immediately I enforced my magical wards around the house, hoping they wouldn't be necessary, but one never could survive on hope alone; it never hurt to be prepared.

And then, like any other citizen of the twenty first century I tossed my wet coat aside to dry, and settled down in my living room with my curiously resilient black cat, Kilgharrah, resting on my lap, to watch the evening news.

My old friend the Great Dragon would've thrown the giant-winged-lizard equivalent of a hissy fit at the thought of his namesake being used on a small, domesticated, furry feline, but that was why I had done it after all. Even now, whenever I called the cat by the name I could swear I could hear the deep, familiar growl, of the last Great Dragon.

Aithusa, though beautiful and confused, couldn't compare with him. She had died so young due to her deforming injuries caused by her two year confinement in the dark pit with Morgana, and for that reason, I pitied her. Not Morgana, the dragon. That pity was why I had spared her life. She had done no more wrong after Morgana's death and she had died naturally with only myself there to witness the passing of the worlds very last dragon.

I had never cared for her as I had for Kilgharrah, how could I? I knew he'd deeply felt her betrayal and he'd never been the same since. His last words had been used to express his deepest regrets and wish that I let her live her life as best as it could be lived. Perhaps that, rather than pity was why I'd done so.

Was it compassion alone that had encouraged the young Aithusa to spare Morgana's life all those years ago? Why did she bond with the Witch and not the last DragonLord? Things would've been much better if the young dragon had trusted me, instead of her. But, she hadn't, perhaps ignorant youth was the only defence she had, and I had kept her on a short leash anyway.

I sighed and shook my head and I rubbed my eyes; I was thinking about the past far too much today, and not for the first time in my long life I had wasted an entire day in my pensive state. I watched as the reporters stood in the dim light of the evening as a backdrop, but I was in no fit state to actually listen to them. I gently stroked Kilgharrah's smooth fur from head to tail and he purred contently under my touch as I titled my head in contemplation.

I left the living room and walked into the kitchen, the cat close behind me, and quickly set about preparing something familiar to give to Arthur once he awoke. I could hardly expect him to eat something he'd never seen before, he never had before, why would he start now?

Fortunately among my antiquated collection I had acquired old silver plates, none from Camelot, but similar designs nonetheless, and sturdy silver cutlery which needed constant polishing. But when one showed no signs of death what was a spot of polishing here and there? In fact, many of the young children from the town often volunteered to clean and polish for me, and many a time I had let them, paying them a small fee, of course. They loved to see my collections, and who was I to deny children? Well...they saw the things that were harmless and of mundane origins, anyway.

I made two simple meals of cold meats and vegetables then left one on the counter under a large silver dish where the bottomless-pitted-stomach, otherwise known as my cat, couldn't reach it. And I took mine into my study towards my piano, he of course followed as my shadow, his eyes never once leaving my plate.

At first I'd had no musical talent whatsoever, but if one spends enough time around skilled musicians over several centuries even I could learn a few things; as with art, I now had a skill for it. On entering I lit all the rooms' candles and as always, I took comfort in the familiar dim light they provided, and as I wordlessly played my music, Kilgharrah happily shared my meal, listening as my unwitting audience.

But after about half an hour I could hear quiet footsteps matched with an equally quiet breathing, Kilgharrah could hear it too and his ears twitches as he searched around silently with his deep, amber eyes, which reminded me every time, of his namesake.

"Good afternoon, Arthur," I said without emotion and he jumped, clearly not expecting me to know he was there. He swung a spear at me which he'd evidently passed in the corridor and I magically lifted it from his hands before it could take my head off. He always did used to over react at the smallest things. Attack first, think later; now it was even more likely that this was the real Arthur, I smiled.

He stared at me through the flickering candle light and then at the dark movement of my cat as though expecting an attack. He was dressed still in his red padded clothes he had worn so long ago under his chain mail; even in this century he still couldn't dress himself. Well, his highness was going to have to learn to do so.

"That would be a cat, perfectly harmless I assure you, or are you gonna attack him as well just to be sure?" I asked him, but he only scowled in response.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

He was confused. What an understatement. How on earth was I supposed to deal with this? Wasn't this what I'd wanted though? For so long hadn't I wanted him to come back? But now that he had...I was left with a very important question. Why? Kilgharrah had once said that Arthur would rise again when he was most needed...I'd never forgotten those words, and I'd never doubted them either. But what possible threat could Arthur defend his country from now?

No. The doubt wasn't in his abilities, but the people had moved on from our world of jousting and chivalric knights of old. Men like Arthur were stories to be adored. They were tales to be told and nothing more in this century.

"It's...complicated, Arthur, it's very, very complicated," I sighed, still holding the spear as I did a staff I leaned against it, suddenly feeling my age.

"...Merlin?" he whispered , "That's...that is you...isn't it?"

"Yes, it is me, my friend," I answered and he seemed to relax. He hadn't flinched at my use of magic so clearly he was not amnesiac...I hoped. "Tell me the last thing you remember," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"The last thing you remember, it doesn't matter how vague, just tell me," I repeated.

"Well...I...I remember...the...a...a wound...I was wounded...I..." he fragmented and lifted a hand to his head, "I...I...I died...didn't I...I died..."

"...Yes, you did, you died..." I said sadly, "Around 1,500 years ago, Arthur," I added grimly, suddenly I was inundated with the memories of that grim day.

He didn't speak, his reply was only a disbelieving scoff, unable to process the information properly he was showing signs of shutting me out; me, the source of the confusion.

"Arthur!" I called to him as I walked quickly over to him.

"...I'm...dead...I'm..." he spoke to himself and I resisted the urge to slap him across the face.

"Look at me! Arthur!"

"I can't be...it's not..." he continued, and now I really did slap him. Just to snap him out of it, he always used to respond better to action than words when he was like this. And it seemed to work.

He stared at me with the eyes I remembered, not the dying eyes of a fallen king, but the living eyes of my most dear friend. "I'm...not dead?" he asked me.

"Not as such, no," I answered as best as I could.

"I'm...alive?"

"...In a fashion," I nodded.

"What about...Guinevere...where is she?" he asked me of several questions I'd rather not answer.

"She's...not here, Arthur," I said slowly. I couldn't say it, but it was the least I could do after all my failure had cost him. "She's gone, the knights are gone...Camelot...is gone," I whimpered. It still drove daggers into my heart to admit that. "I told you, Arthur...the battle...Camlann...it was over a thousand years ago...it's all...all gone now."

"...My...my wife...my knights...the kingdom..."

"Yes," I nodded. I hated to be the one to break his heart and crush his spirit further, but if not me, who else could tell him the truth?

"...No...they can't...they can't be...it..."

I sighed; this was going nowhere fast. I slowly reached out my hand to his forehead, giving him images of the present day for him to see. I also showed him his own tragic death and of me laying him to rest on the Lake. I showed him all that Gwen and his Knights had made of Camelot after his death - all in his name. I showed him as much as I could until I couldn't bear to think on it any longer; the wondrous splendour that Camelot had reached in its prime made it all the worse when I'd seen it all finally come to an end. Even the might of Camelot, couldn't stand up under the passing of time.

Showing simple images like this was a trick I had learned several centuries ago when the last vestiges of true magic were beginning to die out and what little was left had gone deep underground after the Witch Trials had moved swiftly and mercilessly from 1400 to the 1600's. It had all died out and what now remained was in me, and in the earth, some may still posses twinges of magic, but none like it had once been. It was tragic.

"Now do you believe me?"

"You always did lie," he snapped cruelly, but I deserved it; I had failed him and Camelot, and I had failed Magic.

"Yes..and I'm truly sorry for that," I nodded sadly, "But none of what I've showed you is a lie, as tragic as it is, it is the truth...you understand?"

"Yeah...yeah I...I understand..." he muttered sadly and moved slowly towards one of the dark Victorian chairs around the still empty fire place. I lot it without a word and he stared at it for several seconds before closing his eyes, looking for all the world like the fallen, broken man I remembered. "So...where are we?" he asked me after a long silence.

"Near Avalon actually," I answered, content to discuss more mundane, less painful matters.

"Why?"

"Over the years I've found it...difficult to stay away for long...so here I am," I shrugged as I put the seat in the corner of the room and sat opposite my King. I steepled my fingered under my chin as I stared at the flames in the fire grate.

"...What d'you mean...'over the years'?"

"Well I haven't sat around for the past thousand years, Arthur...well...not most of it..." I admitted; I had had that bout of idleness after Arthur's death and I'd spent a lot of time in the Crystal Cave. And then again after the Norman Conquest; another of my early great failures.

"You've been...alive...since..."

"Mm-hmm," I uttered without movement and this seemed to send him into stunned silence.

"This isn't real," he said to himself and leaned his head against his right hand. He jumped again as my cat jumped into his lap and curiously...almost sympathetically nuzzled his arm. I'd always thought there's was something almost human about that animal, it did also seem to have an unusually long life span. But I'd seen things people couldn't even dream about, so it didn't seem right to fixate on the age of my feline companion.

"Oh, I assure you, it's very much real, trust me, I should know," I said with a hint of old, rueful sarcasm. "And I am very, very glad to see you again, Arthur, you can't imagine how lonely life is now," I said truthfully and he seemd to shrink back in his chair. Not at all like the proud, confident man I remembered in the grand throne room of Camelot.

"His name's Kilgharrah," I told Arthur as he gave up trying to ignore its nuzzling of his arm and began stoking his fur. He gave me a confused look at the strange name and I waved a dismissing hand at him. "Long story," I sighed and stood up. "Stay there, I made you something to eat," I said and left him with Kilgharrah.

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A.N. Just to note, I looked it up, and though it's not exactly accurate (I don't actually care) but Merlin is set in around 500 AD, so the historical events I mentioned in this are okay chronologically.

And, once again, I still do not own Merlin, it hasn't changed since yesterday, okay?!


	3. One Last, Old Friend

**Another Twist of Fate**

**Chapter 3: One Last, Old Friend**

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I was once more sat across from Arthur as he picked idly at the silver plate of food I'd handed him. Kilgharrah shared a sympathetic look with me and I sighed once more.

"Merlin..." Arthur began uncertainly, "Why am I here?"

"Honestly...I don't know, I wouldn't complain about it though," I said truthfully. I'd have given everything I had, even my magic, if only he'd come back to life back then.

"How can I not complain when everyone I love is gone?"

"I've been asking myself that for longer than you can imagine," I answered. And suddenly, the old urge to apologise for everything I'd ever done, every wrong I'd ever done and every failure I'd been responsible for, to him. I had been born to serve Arthur, and in the end it had all been, seemingly, for naught.

"Did you...what happened...to Camelot...to...to Gwen?" he asked me and I looked away.

"She stayed on as queen, she ruled in your name, the kingdoms were eventually united and then she retreated to a nunnery. She died a very old, and contended woman," I said. (*1)

"Did she...did she ever..." he tried to say but I knew why he couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence.

"She never remarried, the throne went to her distant relatives, and they ruled well. I was always there...when Camelot needed me..." I said, but I left out the fact that I'd didn't always succeed for Camelot. "She never forgot you, Arthur. I've never seen any one else, besides you, who gave so much for Camelot...I've never actually met another woman like her...she was truly...unique..."

Hearing this only brought tears to his eyes...and mine...because I couldn't save him I'd robbed them of a long and happy life together. "I am sorry," I said to him.

"What? What for?"

"I couldn't...I...I let you...she never blamed me, you know, not once, not even when she chose the nunnery..."

"'Blamed you'?" he repeated.

"For...letting you go..." I sighed quietly.

"Why...why would she?"

"Because it was my fault, I knew about Mordred from the start, I even knew about Morgana...but I thought...no, no, it was always my fault..."

"Mordered...he...killed me, not you..."

"Yes...but if I'd acted differently then I could've prevented it, I could've changed the prophecy...I still know that fate can be changed...I just...failed...I always fail..." I shrugged.

"...Prophecy...you...I remember you mentioned that...in the forest...when I was..."

"It foretold your death at Camlann long before either of us were born, when I heard that name that day...I knew...you have no idea how it feels to know something terrible is going to happen but not be able to change it no matter how hard you try," I muttered, "What's the point in telling someone the future if they can't possibly change it?" I asked myself not for the first time. In all my years no one I'd ever met could answer that question for me.

I lapsed into silence and contemplation - which usually lead to depression with me. When Arthur spoke a while later it took me a moment to look at him.

"So..." he began, "I'm dead...you're a thousand year old, all powerful, immortal sorcerer who just happens to be my old manservant, and this is...the future..."

"Actually, this is the present," I corrected after hearing Kilgharrah 'meow' his disapproval at the mistake and his nod of happiness after I had done so. It was now Arthur's turn to go silent as he gazed into the flames once more. "I've got something you might like," I told him, then I walked across to his chair and tried to lift him to stand up; I was met with only outright refusal.

"I'm not a kid, Merlin, and I'm not interested, just leave me alone for a while, I need..."

"I'm the thousand year old, all powerful sorcerer so I'll be deciding what you need," I said smugly, but Kilgharrah gave a quiet 'meow' of disapproval and I rolled my eyes, "Alright, alright...the one thousand, five hundred year old sorcerer...better?" I asked the animal and it seemed to almost mood it's approval as it 'meowed' again.

"You're...talking...to a...a cat..." Arthur said slowly.

"Yes, I am, now get up," I nodded and lifted him to his feet. I then lead him into the living room where I'd left the television still on and let him sit on the sofa I front of it. He only stared at it with raised eyebrows as the people moved and spoke, I could only imagine how well something like wouldn't gone down in Camelot. Gwaine would've loved it.

"Merlin...what...is...that?"

"That, Arthur is a television, and I've got a feeling you two'll get on a treat."

"What exactly does it do?"

"It...well it..." I frowned; how to explain this to someone who would be considered from the Dark Ages now. "It's like those old puppet shows they used to have at festivals for kids...only they're not puppets...and they're not really there...they're somewhere else and someone's...no...that won't work...you don't know what cameras are either...huh...this is hard..."

"I..."

"No, just...just look at it for now," I sighed heavily; this was not going to be easy. "I'm going to find some answers."

I left him in the living room with Kilgharrah as I walked swiftly to my study and unlocked the magical books I had hidden by with magic. I searched each page of countless books, my eyes shining gold the entire time, but I found nothing that would explain why this was happening. And now I had no one to turn to for answers.

No...wait...I had one person...just one...How had I not thought of her sooner? I hadn't spoken to her in so long, but how had I forgotten so easily? The last time I'd tried to speak to her was 50 years ago and she hadn't appeared to me then. Even though Gauis and Kilgharrah the dragon were gone, I still had her, I still had Freya, my Lady of the Lake.

I'd given up hope that I'd ever be able to speak to her again... But now that Arthur was inexplicably here again...would she do so now? I hoped so. She had more knowledge than I; being bound to Avalon she had the power to know things that I still couldn't understand, even after thousands of lifetimes.

I ran quickly back into the living room and glanced around, "Arthur, I..." I began but one look told me that he was asleep. I suppose returning from the dead could take it out of a person. I left a warm cover over him and Kilgharrah who'd taken residence on Arthur's lap and then I went to bed myself.

* * *

I awoke as I usually did; at sunrise and I quickly dressed then made my way down the stairs. The house was probably too big for one person alone but after living so long in poverty I felt it had been time to live with a little luxury,. Hadn't I spent enough of my life in servitude? Was I not deserving of something like this? Actually I was not, I was a failure after all...

"What's this?" Arthur asked as soon as my foot touched the last step. He was holding one of my sketches; this decades sketches, anyway. Each decade, starting in 1678 I'd decided to paint life as I remembered it in the court of King Arthur, and after so any years of practice even some as inept at art as I was, developed some skill, no matter how small.

"My tradition," I said simply and headed for the kitchen. Kilgharrah followed and wove him self in between my steps; clearly he was hungry.

"This...this is Gwen..." he said quietly.

"Yes," I nodded.

For some reason I had never drawn or painted myself in any of my work. Not once. It was always them, it was always Arthur, the knights, his wife, Gaius, my beloved Freya, my mother and father - together as they should've been, the beautiful castle of Camelot, the round table, Kilgharrah...even the beautiful Ygraine, Arthur's mother, as I remembered once seeing her spirit...but never me. Maybe it was because I had failed them all and I didn't deserve to be remembered, I had even used my work in my books; the publishers had loved them.

"Specifically that is Gwen on the day of your wedding," I told him as I magically set out Kilgharrah's breakfast and manually got my own. "When she was happiest," I added.

"And...who's this then?" he stared at another recent painting.

"An old friend..." I replied as emotionlessly as I could; it was Freya, wearing Morgana's stolen dress and smiling over the very Lake in which I'd lain her and Arthur to rest on. "An old friend who we're going to see," I added quietly, biting into my apple. "Now eat something...and for the love of the Gods, get changed," I sighed.

"Wait a minute, who are we going to see?"

"I told you; an old friend...her spirit's sort of...bound to the Lake, when she died I brought her there and she's...still there...she knows a lot...now go get changed," I said, and eventually, he did just that. I resisted the urge to tease the King about dressing himself for the first time. It wasn't the time or the place for that.

* * *

After much discussion about why he couldn't wear his chain mail or bring one of my many swords with him, I finally got Arthur to sit in my car - that was another loud discussion - and soon we reached the shore of the Lake.

"Mister William, sir," I heard a young, excited voice call and I quickly adjusted my mood and aura from grim determination to jovial young man. I noted Arthur's look of confusion and I begged him with my eyes to keep quiet.

"Young mister Thomas," I replied with a smile and knelt down to greet he young boy. His grandfather was a kindly soul who frequently fished on the boundaries of the Lake and I talked with him often, he often brought along his young grandson but he typically tired of the quiet tones required for any decent fishing haul.

"Where you goin?" the lad asked me.

"Tom, you mind yer manners, t'ain't non business o' yours where the lad's headed," the grandfather; Eric drawled and I smiled back at him.

"Good morning, sir," I called to him, "Catch anything this early?"

"Aye, got three already," the man replied with pride.

"And we've only been here a minute," Thomas told me.

"It's been five minutes lad," his grandfather corrected but it went over the lads head.

"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Arthur, this is Eric and Thomas Owens, Eric and Thomas, my good friend Arthur Pendrick," I smiled.

"Pleased ter meet yer, laddy," Eric smiled then turned back to his fishing rod. The man was nice enough, but fishing was practically his whole life, and it just so happened to be a hobby of my 'grandfather' as well, so I spent...I mean, my 'grandfather' spent quite a lot of time with him.

"I'm off to show my good friend our old tower, he's never been, you know," I whispered conspiratorially to the boy.

"You've never been there?" Tom questioned in disbelief and I tried not to smile.

"...Err...no...I haven't..." he shook his head.

"Whoa...why not?"

"I...err...haven't had the time..." Arthur shrugged.

"Oh," Tom frowned as though he didn't understand why that would matter.

"And how's yer granddad, lad?" Eric asked me.

"He's feeling the cold today, I thought it best if he stayed in with the fire," I said without blinking. If nothing else I had become even more adept at lying.

"Aye, it's age, laddy, you'll feel it too one day," he replied and I mentally rolled my eyes at he irony of that statement; I was over a thousand years his senior and he was lecturing me about the downsides of old age.

"I don't doubt it, sir," I nodded and then I directed Arthur to my boat. It was one of many moored on this side of the Lake and tourists made good use of them in the summer months; this place was popular with people following the legend of Arthur. I'd have to tell him that as well soon enough.

"Bye, mister William, sir!" Tom shouted as I found my boat and I heard his grandfather 'shhh' him. He'd scared the fish for sure.

"I thought you said we'd meet this friend of yours at the lake...this is the lake," Arthur said, confused.

"Well, I can hardly call to her on the shore, there's people there now, they cut down the forest years ago, so I'll have to take you across to the island. There's a small cave under the tower's foundations, hopefully she'll come this time." I explained and got into the boat. It was small and simple but it worked just fine to ferry me from one side to the other. "Now, I should probably warn you, when I get it working the boat is...err...its going to make some strange noises, okay? I'll explain later, just don't jump and fall into the lake," I said and he scowled at me.

"'Pendrick'?" he questioned, choosing to ignore my jab at his reflexes.

"'Pendrick' is thought to be one of the names of your early ancestors, I thought it was rather clever, " I shrugged as I sorted the motor on the boat.

"And...err...William?"

"It's more conspicuous, 'Merlin' is a famous, all powerful sorcerer and it's not generally a name used anymore, people ask less questions and take less interest if I use something like 'William'," I answered.

"So why am I still 'Arthur' if you can't be 'Merlin'?"

"'Arthur' is a popular enough name and you have no reason to abandon it," I muttered as the motor spluttered to life.

"'Abandon'?" he jumped slightly at the motor but he didn't topple the boat.

"I did think once about using your name, after all I can't keep the same name forever, I've had dozens of names, but I've never used yours, I can't, I don't deserve to," I replied truthfully and thankfully he said no more.

It was a short journey to the centre of the Lake and Arthur followed me to the tower where I walked into the hidden cave and then to the edge of the water that ran into the cave. "Freya..." I whispered, but nothing happened, "Freya, please..."

And sure enough I felt a warm mist and a familiar face emerged from the water in front of me. "Hello," I smiled.

"Hello, my love," she smiled back, and it suddenly became almost possible, to forget all of my troubles.

* * *

(*1) The actual story goes that the queen goes into a nunnery straight after Arthur dies, but I can't imagine the BBC Gwen doing that, so I just thought I'd tweak the legend a bit here. A little more couldn't hurt.

* * *

A.N. Not far to go now; most these scenes were written for an old story I decided to use it for this, so now I know where this thing is going, I just have to fix it so it fits with this one. Keeping old work really does help :) After this one I'm thinking about doing something where Merlin actually does save Arthur after Camlann, I'm sure yet though.

And, by now, I guess you know the drill: me is not gaining any profit from this fanfic, 'cos me is not owning Merlinus!


	4. A Last Wish of Magic

**Another Twist of Fate**

**Chapter 4: A Last Wish of Magic**

* * *

"Freya..." I said wistfully. It had been so long since I'd last gazed on her beautiful face; nothing I could paint or imagine or dream ever seemed as beautiful as the real thing though. Her pale beauty was not diminished in the dim light of the primitive cave, nor was it obscured by the never ending droplets of water cascading from her body. She had always been shrouded by an unnatural, but enchanting loveliness.

"Greetings, my King," she bowed slightly to Arthur who only stared in shock at her. Great, more explaining for me to do. Fantastic.

"Somehow...you don't seem very surprised..." I rolled my eyes; of course she would know about this. She was the Lady of the Lake after all.

"No, I suppose not," she smiled. "But it's not as complicated as it seems, my love," she said to me, but I found that very hard to believe.

"Then enlighten me," I rolled my eyes.

"Magic is almost dead," she said sadly, ignoring my dulcet tone, "To make amends for all it has cost you...it does this now."

"But magic isn't dead, I am magic, it can't die," I told her. If magic was me how then could it die if I was fated to live forever? And why had I not felt it?

"The magic in you is alive yes, but the magic in the earth is almost gone. It is alive...but it doesn't have long..."

"No...wait...if it's dying in the earth won't you...I'll never see you again once it's gone..." I frowned. There must be something I could do, some way I could save her...

"Yes you will," she sighed.

"'One day', I remember" I scoffed at recalling one of our last conversations, "That 'one day' is a long time coming, Freya, I'm still here! And I'm tired..."

"I know, Merlin, and you've done so much good."

"No, I haven't, I failed, over and over again," I corrected her.

"You're the oldest human on earth and you still don't understand," she smiled at me. "Fate always repays good deeds, even if it takes lifetimes," she said with confidence. "The people of magic are gone. The power in you was born of the earth, it is no longer needed elsewhere, with you will die the last of magic, but your time is not yet come. You must live, my love, live your life, for you are the one child of magic. The magic of the earth is indebted to you a thousand times over, it gives its thanks now, for it cannot do so once it is gone."

"Why didn't I know about this sooner?" I demanded.

"You could not, your power is instinctive, if it was to sense the death of its brother it too would perish...and so then would you," she spoke lightly, "It protects you," she clarified, and I suddenly couldn't find my voice. "And now, I am charged with granting the last wish of the magic of the earth."

I stared transfixed at her, this long dead beauty, this magical being, this...woman, as she spoke solely to me. "Its last wish, my love...is to grant you, the loyal servant of magic, your one and only wish..."

She stepped slowly out of the water and walked towards me...never before had she separated from the magical waters of the Lake. I was enchanted as she seemed to glide over to me with angelic grace. Her elegant limbs still dripping with water, she reached out her arm and touched my face with cold, pale fingers. It had been so long since I'd last felt her touch, her cold, dying touch, and heard her last words...

'_...One day...I will repay you...'_ she had said all those years ago, when I had been young...oh, I had been so young back then. And I had been so heartbroken.

As I stared into her eyes now, hundreds of years later, I felt that seeing her face was all that I wanted from her, hearing her voice and seeing her smile...that was all she needed to give me.

...And then...and then she kissed me. I felt something inside me screaming and shouting its lungs off that this situation was not the time for kissing my long dead, one and only love...evidently she thought differently. She was made of water, after all, maybe water had a different way of thinking than thousand year old men.

Then I felt my magic escape through my fingertips, through my very soul without my willing it to and it shone like a miniature sun in the darkness of the small was joined by a smaller, weaker silver light. It was my golden power and the silver power of the Lake granted to her, they intertwined together in bright display light until it burst up though the cave with a loud explosion, sending debris in every direction.

My magic shielded us.

The lights then burst out, confusing the remains of the tower and then upward to finally reach the heavens. This was certainly going to give people something to talk about. I felt elated, my soul soared high with the bright shine of my magic, it danced around in forms and images long unseen.

I saw the great castle of Camelot and its never ending streets filled with the people I'd fought so long and hard to defend. They smiled at me. I saw the rolling fields of Ealdor as the villagers I'd been raised with worked at sunrise each morning, my mother and father smiled lovingly at each other. I saw the glowing Crystal Cave and the forms of Kilgharrah and Aithusa with endless images of long extinct magical races that lived now only in my memories and in my stories.

I closed my eyes and let the magic do what it wanted. It always knew what to do even when I didn't. I felt the cold, but loving arms of my beloved around me as I seemed to loose my hold on reality. Things seemed unfocused and I felt like a drunk with all the coordination - or lack thereof - of Gwaine, my old friend, Gwaine, on one of his week-long tavern benders.

"Merlin!" I heard a voice call through the fog that began to cloud my mind. I could've sworn that it was Arthur...but that was not possible...my King had died...he had died in my arms...was I dying now? Was this what death felt like? A slow, gradual loss of reality?

...If so...then perhaps...it wasn't so bad after all...was this all that I had spent so long despising...so long hating for taking away the people I loved?

"Merlin!" the voice called again, but I was too far gone. I had never before taken any of the words of Shakespeare to heart before but...indeed...to die on a kiss...was really no bad thing...

...I finally lost all hold on consciousness and the mysterious voice...and the arms and lips of my beloved were my last thoughts...It was finally my time...I was leaving behind an unsolved mystery...but I was finally able to rest...and I was so tired.

...

...

...

This was unexpected.

I could feel my fingers. I could feel the cool air and I could hear the water lapping against immovable stone. When my eyes finally opened I saw something I'd only seen in my dreams.

Perhaps I was dreaming.

Queen Guinevere Pendragon was helping Arthur, her beloved husband, to his feet, as Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Leon and Elyan stood smiling around the remains of the cave. The long dead Knights of the Round Table, about whom the stories had become legendary, were stood around me once more, just as it had been in Camelot.

I felt a great burden suddenly removed from my shoulders and now, perhaps now, I could finally stand tall. Perhaps now I could finally live as Merlin, not as Thomas, or William, or any of the other innumerable names I'd assumed over the years.

With these people here, I was now..once again...finally...Merlin...I was myself once more.

"Your one wish, my love," Freya whispered in my ear as she knelt beside me. I searched myself for my magic to find that it was still here with me. "Your immortality for our lives; an equal trade in the eyes of the Old Religion...or...in the eyes of magic in its last days," she said and kissed my cheek with a tenderness I had forgotten how to miss.

I looked to my right and saw the smiling face of my old mentor and uncle...Gaius...the Gaius of old was sitting to my right with my mother and father holding each other happily, as they stood behind him. Freya was sitting on my left and my dear friends stood proud in front of me.

"I'm going to need a bigger boat..." I simply said and I felt tears that I had not been able to shed in centuries, stream slowly down my face. I suddenly remembered what happiness felt like...for the first time in centuries.

It seemed that, as magic had always taught me; with the end of something, comes the beginning of something else...something else of equal...if not of greater importance.

* * *

A.N. Whoa...was that a corny ending or what?! But who doesn't love a good, happy, happy, corny, cheesy ending?! Granted this was gonna be a longer story but I couldn't bring myself to write anymore for this new century take on this plot. It was good for a few chapters but I don't think it works all that well to be honest.

Anyway, I'm glad so many people liked it and thank you to everyone who reviewed! It's been fun! I'm planning on doing the other end of the spectrum where Arthur lives after Camlann and we'll see how well that works. And for the sake of tradition I DO NOT OWN MERLIN!

It will be called 'Another Twist of Fate: Take 2', so keep a look out people! Then I'll pick the one I like best and do a sequel.

!Bye bye for now mes amis!


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